When You're With Me
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Tensions drive the brothers apart, until Sam's reminded that they're always stronger together.


_I wrote this fic in April; similarities to the end of the season are completely coincidental. Darn it. _

**When You're With Me**  
K Hanna Korossy

_"Sam,_" Bobby had said over the phone, voice sober and slow. _"He's in the hospital." _

Once, that would have been enough. Bobby was a lot better at first aid than Sam would probably ever be, and if it was something even he couldn't fix, it had to be serious. But so much had changed, and Sam couldn't help asking. "Is it bad? Do I need to come?"

The hitch in Bobby's voice said he recognized the difference, too. _"Caught an infection from a bite. His fever got high enough that I didn't want to screw around with it. It's bad, but he should be all right." _

Sam rubbed at his forehead, feeling so far from the person he'd always wanted to be. "Is he…asking for me?" It didn't sound as casual a question as he'd hoped.

There was a brief pause. _"Not exactly,_" Bobby gruffly admitted. _"But when he's out of his head he keeps saying your name. You know how stubborn that brother of yours is." _

Sam pulled at his lip, glancing across the room to where Ruby was doing…something that was supposed to give them a lead on Lilith. It was important, but there were some things—one thing—that would always be more so. "I'm on my way," Sam had said, and broken the connection.

Ruby hadn't liked it, but then, Sam couldn't seem to please anyone these days. He glared through the windshield at the flat Nebraska scenery he was speeding through. When he hunted with Dean, Ruby kept arguing that Lilith was getting away. When he snuck out to work with Ruby, Dean got mad or, worse, acted betrayed. Lilith had sent Dean to Hell and was breaking seals and needed killing badly, but a year ago Sam would have given all he had to have his brother back. It felt like being torn in two, like everyone wanted to run his life for him.

_"She's using you, Sam—why can't you see that?" _Dean had asked, face lined with the same frustration Sam felt.

_"Right, because Castiel only has our best interests at heart. Dean, we should be going after Lilith, not just playing damage control." _

_"This isn't the way!" _

_"Then tell me what is! Because I don't see a lot of options here, Dean! You seriously think we're gonna win this war reacting instead of attacking?"_

Dean had shrunk a little then. _"I'm just…I'm scared for you, Sam. This, what you're doing, it's not right. You said it yourself—you're playing with fire. A year ago you were begging me to kill you if you went too far down this road." _

He swallowed the hurt of that. _"A year ago, I hadn't watched you get torn apart by a hell hound."_

_"I'm here now, Sam. And if you think I'm gonna stand around and watch you become one of them just to win…"_

The memory still made his throat ache and his chest tighten. He wasn't sure exactly what had been said after that, but there'd been no dramatic _If you walk out that door, don't come back_. Dean wasn't Dad. They'd both somehow agreed, however, that maybe they should hunt apart for a while. Dean had to do what he felt was right. Fine. But Sam did, too.

That had been a very long five days before. The longest time he'd gone without contact with his brother since Dean's return.

It was a little frightening how easily he'd fallen into the patterns of that summer: training with Ruby, hunting Lilith. And how much it felt like the same Hell.

Sam pressed the gas down a little harder, ignoring the signs that rushed by.

_"He's weak, Sam. He won't do what needs to be done." _

_"He's my brother, Ruby. He went to _Hell_ for me." _

_"And Hell broke him! You've seen it, too. He's scared now, and he's only going to hold you back in this fight." _

_"Shut up. Just…shut up." _

She was right. That was the part that killed him: she was right. Hell had broken something in Dean. He was weak now, scared.

Like Sam had been as a kid, after Jess's death, after his visions had started. So many times when Dean had protected and looked after and slowed down for him.

Where did your loyalties lie when the choice was your brother or the world?

The hospital was small, a two-story red brick building surrounded by bright flowers. They knew immediately who he was when he asked about Dean, and two minutes later Sam was being ushered upstairs, into a quiet, pale blue room with curtains.

And Dean lying in the bed, sunken eyes squeezed shut, face flushed red, hair limp with sweat…in restraints.

Bobby, sitting in a chair on the far side of the bed, pushed to his feet, tired circles under his own eyes. The nurse promised to go find Dean's doctor and disappeared.

"Bobby—" It was an effort for Sam to keep his voice steady.

"Now, just wait a minute and let me explain. He kept trying to pull out his IV, and he rolled clean off the bed one time when I was in the john. It's just to keep him safe."

Sam stumbled forward, anger sloughing off with every step, along with his self-confidence, the mantle of strength and power. He was just another worried family member in this room, and Sam clenched his teeth against the helplessness.

Dean turned his head restlessly, brow puckered at some unseen worry. The mumbled words that spilled out of his mouth were incomprehensible no matter how close Sam leaned…except for one word.

_Sam. _

But he wasn't calling for his little brother. There was no plea, no expectation of answer. Just the soft exhale of the word as if it was all he could remember.

_Sam. _He grunted. _Sam._

Sam flinched, pride faltering in face of this unexpected vulnerability. "I'm here, Dean," he whispered, laying a hand on his forehead and damp hair. "I'm here—it's Sam."

Dean swallowed and went silent.

A throat cleared behind Sam, and Sam reluctantly turned away from his brother one more time.

Doctor Somebody; Sam didn't bother remembering the name. He got the highlights: the nasty infection from the dog bite—Sam raised an eyebrow at Bobby at that—the different antibiotics they were trying, the delirium they hoped would clear up by morning, probably a few more days in the hospital. Weakness, dehydration, exhaustion.

_Sam. _It was a sigh now. _Sam._

Bobby started to leave with the doctor, but Sam snagged his arm.

"Dog bite?" he asked once they were alone, head tilting.

Bobby gave him a grim smile as he scratched the hair under his cap. "God's own truth this time, believe it or not. We thought it was your basic black dog hunt, but turned out to be a pack of feral graveyard dogs. The bite hadn't seemed like much until the arm ballooned like an overinflated tire and turned brick red. Practically had to carry him to the car to get him here last night."

Sam slowly nodded, mouth puckered. He didn't bother pointing out that Dean wouldn't have gotten hurt if he'd had different priorities than a "basic hunt."

"I'm gonna go back to the motel and grab some sleep. Call if ya need something." Bobby patted Sam on the shoulder, glanced back at the bed, then left.

And behind them the whole time, those hopeless, helpless occasional slips of _Sam. _

The door closing behind him, leaving only the two of them, was a relief. Sam didn't want an audience when he unbuckled the heavy padded straps that kept Dean's hands at his sides. Sam pulled the arm without the bandage and IV closer, trapped both boneless, hot hands in his own, then leaned forward.

"It's okay. It's Sam and I'm here with you, I promise. It's really okay."

Dean didn't open his eyes, but at least it seemed like some part of him was listening.

You were only as strong as your defenses, and they'd always been each other's. Sam wasn't sure what that said about him when Dean was the one lying there fragile and defenseless.

00000

_"Dean." _

_"Here, Sammy." Rough hands gently pushing hanks of his hair back. "I'm here."_

Sam startled awake, raising his head from where his cheek had been pillowed over their joined hands.

Freed, Dean immediately reached for the IV needle, groaning at the movement.

Sam recaptured the stray hand, marveling again at the straight fingers and unblemished skin. "No. Hey. Leave it alone, Dean. It's helping you."

"Sam."

It was lucid enough to make him hope for a moment. But even as Dean's eyelashes fluttered, they revealed only dull, confused eyes. Sam sighed and curled both Dean's hands in one of his own, reaching for the basin of tepid water with the other. "I'm here," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "I know you didn't expect me to be, but I swear, Dean, I'm here."

"Sam." It was a breath, resigned and sad.

Sam rubbed the wet cloth over burning skin, his eyes skipping over the monitor readings. Still hovering just under 104. The nurse said if it went higher than that, they'd have to do an ice bath. "Even if you don't know it, I'm here, man. I'm not leaving."

He wasn't sure Dean would believe him even if he heard him, though.

00000

_"Dean…"_

_"Right here, Sammy. Just relax, dude." He shivered under the cool touch. "I came, and I'm not going anywhere…"_

"Sam?"

Sam started, turning away from the window to blink at Bobby.

The older man looked a little less weary after the sleep, if no less wrinkled. Bobby nodded at Dean. "How's he doing?"

Sam's hands dropped from where they'd crossed his chest, one rubbing uncertainly across his belly. "I don't know," he admitted. "Sometimes I think he's almost back, and then he's just…gone again."

Bobby rubbed at his beard. "Not like he's had a lot to come back to lately." At Sam's narrowed eyes, he put a hand up. "Don't look at me like that—that's not a dig at you. But you have to admit, coming back from months—years—in Hell? Not exactly something I'd want to wake up to."

Sam's shoulders dropped. He felt so tired. Couldn't remember the last time he didn't. Even with the power Ruby gave him coursing through his veins, he always felt like he wanted to curl up and sleep for a year, let someone else fight the fight for a while. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for Dean. Sam rubbed at his forehead. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Bobby, you know anything about Dean coming to see me at Stanford when I was in the hospital?"

Bobby's eyebrows inched under his hat. "Don't you know?"

Sam frowned. "Know what?"

"Sam, John kicking you out was the reason I finally ran your dad off with a shotgun. That was the last time I saw Dean until you two showed up on my doorstep looking for help finding your dad."

Sam's jaw went slack. How had he not heard this in the years since? He'd always assumed that when their dad had sent Dean off to hunt alone, he at least had Jim and Bobby to call on. Jim probably would have known if Dean had been to Palo Alto, but Jim Murphy was dead and buried in his beloved Blue Earth.

"I'm sorry, boy, I thought you knew."

He shook his head dumbly and turned back to the bed. Dean, still listless but without much energy left to burn, rolled his head on the pillow, lips moving soundlessly. The crease between his eyebrows was deep, and Sam idly reached over a thumb to smooth it out. He knew what Dean was saying even without sound.

_Sam. _

The reason he'd gone to Hell. The reason they butted heads now. Dean's weakness…and his strength. It was ironic that now, feverish and exhausted but still fighting, Dean had never seemed so strong.

Sam leaned down, shutting Bobby out behind them, the sounds of the monitors, everything but Dean and him. He leaned their temples together, and whispered into Dean's ear.

00000

_"Come back to me, bro." _

_His body ached. His head was one giant ball of pain, tipping this way and that on the thin pillow like a loose bowling ball. He couldn't swallow, and his oversensitized skin felt every drag of the blankets over him. _

_"That's it, kiddo, don't try to talk, just hang on to me, okay? I'm right here, Sam." _

_"Dean." It hurt, saying it, but he couldn't seem to stop._

_"Here, Sammy." Gently, gently, fingers kneading away the soreness in his neck, arms. Walking him through the valley of shadows. "I know, I'm here…"_

_Except, he hadn't been when Sam had finally opened his eyes two and a half days later. He was alone in the hospital, only his roommate and his R.A. stopping in occasionally to make sure he was okay. _

_He'd never dared ask the staff if anyone else had stayed with him, afraid of the answer._

00000

Sam's eyes blinked heavily open, and he stared ahead a long moment, more asleep than awake, before what he was seeing registered.

Dean's eyes were only half open, too, and just as groggy. But they were unmistakably latched onto Sam's, disbelief and confusion and longing stark in them now that he had no strength left to hide it.

"Hey," Sam said softly.

"Sam?"

It was bodiless, little more than an exhale, but for the first time it was a request. Sam's mouth relaxed into a sideways smile. "Yeah."

Dean blinked slowly, gaze wandering briefly before returning to Sam. His eyes sharpened a little…and immediately grew wary. "…how?"

Sam pushed himself up, making himself release the hands that had been once more folded in his own. He watched as Dean's fingers curled uncertainly on the blankets. "Little bird told me."

Dean's eyelids slid shut, tongue darting out over peeling lips. "Girl."

Sam snorted as he poured some water and pressed the straw to Dean's lips. "Whatever, man." A few sips, and Dean had already exhausted his meager stores, starting to drift. His forehead only scrunched a little as Sam pressed the back of his hand to it, feeling for fever. Warm but no longer burning. He breathed out in relief.

It was not ten minutes later when his brother roused and spoke again as if he'd never drifted off. "…back t'stay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. We'll talk when you're better, all right?"

Dean's nose twitched. "'wesome."

Sam snorted a laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. He hesitated; this obviously wasn't the best time. Like that had ever stopped him before. "Hey, Dean?"

"Mmm."

"Did you, uh, come see me when I was in the hospital during my freshman year? I had the flu really bad and, uh…" Sam scratched at the back of his neck, "…I was kinda out of it but I swear I remember you being there."

For a moment, he thought Dean had fallen asleep once more. Then his brother half opened his eyes and just looked at Sam, eyes deep and soft with far more than fatigue.

Sam's face softened. "You could've stayed."

"…wasn' sure…" Dean's shoulder shifted half an inch.

Sam swallowed and nodded, chewing his lip as he glanced away, then back. "How did you know?"

His brother's eyes closed, his voice was evaporating, almost soundless near the end. "Li'l bird…"

Sam huffed, dropped his head and shook it. He rubbed a palm over the almost-faded red marks from the restraints on Dean's nearest wrist. "Jerk," he said quietly.

Dean's mouth twitched, but he was pretty much gone again.

It didn't change anything, not really. They were still on separate paths, separate missions, and Sam saw no way to reconcile the two without major compromise on one of their parts. It wouldn't—couldn't—be his. Lilith had to be destroyed, no matter what it took. The alternative would be so much worse.

And he would do anything, _anything, _to make sure Dean didn't die on him again.

But Dean was fighting just as hard for Sam and what he thought important, and he wouldn't ever give up on that, either. Sam knew better. Had counted on it, once upon a time. Now, he didn't know what to think…except for the one fact he'd almost forgotten even though it'd been true his whole life.

Sam tightened his grip convulsively on Dean's wrist, and Dean shifted toward him in his sleep.

The Winchester brothers—always, always—were strongest together.

**The End**


End file.
